No Happy Endings, I Am Sorry to Tell You

By PATRICIA LEIGH BROWN

Published: October 13, 2006

AS I'm sure you know, the number 13 is one of deep cultural significance. It is considered to be rather unfortunate, so unfortunate that some people refuse to travel or sign contracts on the 13th day of the month, and even in the most sophisticated cities many pretend that the number does not exist, with some buildings going straight from Floors 12 to 14.

The symbolism of 13 has not been lost on Lemony Snicket, the nom de plume of the author Daniel Handler, whose ''Series of Unfortunate Events'' reaches its mordant and much-anticipated denouement today with publication of ''The End,'' the 13th installment of this children's book series. (The first 12 volumes, in case you failed to notice, contain 13 chapters each.) The books have collectively sold more than 51 million copies worldwide since the series began seven years ago.

For those who have had their heads buried in the sand -- the phrase here meaning a certain cluelessness about popular culture rather than dining on eroded siliceous rocks -- Mr. Handler's literary opera buffa of calamity has been a children's book phenomenon second only to Harry Potter in this era. Narrated by Lemony Snicket, a sketchy figure whose own life becomes increasingly part of the plot, the tales chronicle the unrelenting misfortunes of the three Baudelaire siblings, who become orphans when their parents perish in a terrible fire.

The children encounter wretchedness and treachery wherever they go: they are 14-year-old Violet, a wily inventor; Klaus, a 12-year-old library hound; and baby Sunny, a precocious babbler who likes recreational biting. (The names of the youngest two were inspired by the unfortunate Claus and Sunny von Bulow attempted-murder case in the 1980's.) Their tribulations are instigated largely by the villainous Count Olaf, a frightening and somewhat buffoonish actor with a single long eyebrow and a penchant for disguises who wants nothing more than to part them from their family fortune.

Readers, many of them 11-to-13-year-olds, have, as is their adolescent wont, rebelled against the author's admonition to steer clear of the horrid stories, in which the hapless Baudelaires face hurricanes, indentured servitude, entrapment in a shack with biting crabs, numerous kidnappings, a merciless all-night gym class, shoves down an elevator shaft and near death by spores from a deadly fungus, to name a few.

''The End'' is indeed the end of what the author calls ''170 chapters of misery'' as well as a marketing extravaganza by HarperCollins, which is releasing 2.5 million copies, its record for a children's book. Young readers are looking to the book, which takes place on a forgotten island, to resolve at long last a set of complicated mysteries, chief among them the identity of Beatrice, to whom each book is dedicated, and the relationship between Beatrice and Lemony Snicket himself. These and other weighty matters are obsessively debated on the numerous unofficial Lemony Snicket Web sites and blogs that have sprung up since the series's inception, most notably 667 Dark Avenue (at asoue.proboards11.com), named for the sinister high-rent apartment building in the sixth book, ''The Ersatz Elevator.''

As Esm?igi Geniveve Squalor, the evil, status-crazed resident of the building's penthouse, might be the first to observe, the books, much like microgreens in salad and pugs in Hollywood, are in. Critics have compared the Snicket oeuvre to Edward Gorey, the Brothers Grimm and Roald Dahl. They are melodramatic gothic-style cliffhangers, darkly lighthearted (or lightly dark-hearted) books with a contemporary sardonic wit. An informal poll of librarians and other connoisseurs of children's literature reveals certain common themes. Being orphaned, they note, is a device beloved by authors for getting rid of parents (''Oliver Twist,'' ''The Secret Garden,'' ''The Wolves of Willoughby Chase''). The inventive use of irony and language, including defining big words, said Judith Rovenger, youth services director for the Westchester Library System in Tarrytown, N.Y., shows that ''kids have a nose for literature that is often underestimated.''

The Baudelaires face a domino effect of appalling circumstances that do not necessarily result in the requisite happy ending, something that some parents find upsetting, said Terri Schmitz, owner of the Children's Book Shop in Brookline, Mass. But many young readers find the stories of siblings banding together to thwart adversity on their own refreshing, ''especially because they are at the age where they feel possibly overprotected by their parents, especially today's parents,'' she said.

Ben Gandesbery, a 12-year-old in Piedmont, Calif., outside San Francisco, where the 36-year-old Handler-Snicket lives in the perpetually gloomy fog belt, has his own theory about the series's appeal. ''The adults in the books are kind of wacky,'' he observed by telephone this week. ''It's kind of an odd feeling you get. The kids are the only sane people.''

For fans, the most intriguing wacky adult is Mr. Handler, who, for a famous author, has kept a relatively low personal profile. As I am sure you know, this not only is an enchanting literary device but also a brilliant marketing strategy, instilling an insatiable curiosity in thousands of children about the ''real'' Lemony Snicket.